The One and Only
by sugah66
Summary: COMPLETE. Enterprise encounters a stranded escape pod with an unusual occupant. AU. Note: original character ahead. Please R&R. UPDATED 6.12.05.
1. SOS

**TITLE: The Kamea Chronicles, Part 1: The One and Only  
AUTHOR: Sugah Sugah  
****SUMMARY: _Enterprise_ encounters a stranded escape pod with an unusual occupant.  
RATING: K+ -- some language, but nothing to write home about.  
****SPOILERS: Through "Home" (season 4, episode 3)  
****AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story happens after the events of "Home" but before "Borderland". It is the first part of a much longer story and therefore takes place in an alternate universe. Since it is the first part of a series, it will probably be very boring, and for this I apologize. I had originally written this in novel form, but then my hard drive crashed, and when I started over I wrote it in parts, to make it easier to print.  
****The main character of the series is an original one (though somewhat based on a character of Quills'), and I took a little liberties with establishing her heritage, but since this is a show about people who travel around on a giant spaceship meeting different alien cultures every week, I didn't think anyone would mind the slight suspension of disbelief needed to embrace Kamea's character.  
****Also, while this is AU, I like some of the things TPTB are doing with our favorite characters this season, so I may be using elements of season 4 throughout the series.  
****By the way, this series assumes that the events that happened in my fic "Just As It Should Be" actually happened in the show. I refer to them later. You might want to read that story, too. And it's not just a shameless plug. Okay, it is. But whatever.  
****EDIT: The different books of the chronicles have now been "updated" to include stardate, so you can get a sense of the timeline.  
****DISCLAIMER: I don't own "Enterprise". I make no profit. So please don't sue. (If you do, you won't get much.) The only thing "Enterprise" I own is season 1 on DVD, and if I could own anything from "Enterprise", it would be Dominic Keating.**

* * *

**The Kamea Chronicles**

**Part One: The One and Only**

_Captain's Log:_

_Stardate: May 7, 2154_

_Following a refit after the resolution of the Xindi conflict and the Temporal Cold War -- which of course the Vulcans refuse to validate -- _Enterprise_ has been relaunched to continue its original mission of exploration. Earlier this evening, we encountered a shuttlepod floating dead in space, with one occupant. The pod is broadcasting an SOS beacon in Vulcan, but the pod itself is of Dominion make, and T'Pol informs me that the scanners are unable to get a lock on the occupant's species. I'm waiting for Commander Tucker to join us on the bridge before we make any decisions as to how to proceed._

_

* * *

_Commander Trip Tucker hated to leave his post down in engineering. It had been discovered long ago that when he was not there, bad things happened. But the captain of Enterprise – Jonathan Archer, Trip's best friend – had called him to the bridge, and he grudgingly followed orders. The others were already at their posts and had probably been there for quite some time: Ensign Hoshi Sato, communications, Ensign Travis Mayweather, helmsman, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, armory officer and – Trip's heart rate accelerated automatically – Commander T'Pol, science officer. 

His relationship with T'Pol had reached a turning point, but neither one seemed to know in which direction to go. He had feelings for her – hell, he was in love with her – and he knew that she reciprocated his feelings, at least to the extent that a Vulcan could. But then her mother all but forced her into a loveless marriage with that jerk, Koss, and now Trip felt constantly frustrated. He was torn between the way he felt when he was around her and his sense of ethics, which said that he shouldn't covet another man's wife – even if she was in love with him. She obviously felt the same, because she had been avoiding him ever since their re-launch after the Xindi conflict.

Trip met T'Pol's eyes briefly and wandered over to the captain's chair, where Archer sat, staring out the view port looking confused. "What's up Cap'n?" Trip asked. His southern drawl had been renewed after the brief visit to Earth; he'd been afraid that the amount of time spent in the expanse would have removed all bits of it from his speech.

Archer just looked at him, then pointed out the view port. Trip turned.

There was a shuttle pod drifting in space. It looked like a giant fish, with a Y-shaped back fin. It was beat to hell, like it had flown through an asteroid field or a meteor shower – covered in a vast assortment of variously sized dents. It also looked as though it had shut down long ago; it wasn't moving of its own momentum anymore – it was just floating along, like it was bobbing in a lake.

Trip shook his head slowly. Whoever was in that pod was either dead or really close to it. There was no way anything could survive floating in space for very long, especially without power or fuel, both of which the pod seemed to be missing. "I don't understand why you called me out of engineerin'. That pod's dead in the water."

Hoshi spoke up from somewhere to his left. "We're getting a distress call," she said, glancing at Trip over her shoulder. "The same word, over and over: _gol'nev_." Trip shot her a questioning glance – he had no idea what the hell that meant – and she said, "It's Vulcan. It means 'help'."

Trip turned back to the captain, wondering if the reason _Enterprise_ hadn't attempted to do anything was because of Archer's deeply buried resentment of the Vulcan people. But he also knew that Archer wouldn't turn his back on someone so desperately in need of assistance. The pod was virtually defenseless, and its occupants were probably too weak to pose that great of a threat. "Well, then let's bring 'em aboard." He turned to Hoshi. "Have we hailed 'em?"

She gave a barely perceptible shrug. "No response. I've been trying for some time."

"It's complicated, Trip," Archer said, causing Trip to turn back to him.

"What's so complicated about it?" Trip asked. He walked over to the science station so that he was standing directly behind T'Pol. She didn't verbally acknowledge his breach of her personal space, but she did tense slightly. "Aren't those Vulcans on board that thing?"

She didn't look at him. "The readings are erratic. The equipment can't distinguish the species of the occupant. The only thing I can say for certain is that there is only one."

Trip leaned forward slightly to examine the readings, brushing up against T'Pol's back. He felt her stiffen again, then relax, just a bit. He fought to get his breathing under control. Her very presence was intoxicating, and it took every ounce of self-control Trip had to keep himself calm in front of the rest of the crew. "Well, if the SOS call's in Vulcan, then wouldn't it be logical to assume that it's a Vulcan inside?"

"It would," Archer said, and Trip straightened, looking at the captain, "if that were a Vulcan ship."

Trip glanced at the pod, floating just outside the view port. "That's not a Vulcan ship?" He moved away from T'Pol to stand beside Archer once more. "Well, then what the hell is it?"

"That's a Dominion ship," Malcolm said. He had not lost one trace of his British accent in all the years they'd been on _Enterprise_. "Probably an escape pod. But we haven't encountered any Dominion ships for over a year, and if one was nearby, we would have certainly picked it up on our sensors."

Archer sank into his chair. "So basically," he said, glancing up at Trip, "we have a Vulcan distress call coming from a Dominion ship, but we have no idea what's inside."

There was silence on the bridge as everyone stared at the pod. Trip felt a smile creep across his face. The past few weeks had been uneventful, and he was starting to get cabin fever. This was something that signaled action, that they would actually have something to do instead of reconnaissance. "What are we waitin' for?"

Archer grinned at Trip, then reached a hand to his communications panel and pushed a button. "Archer to sickbay."

The voice of Phlox, their Denobulan physician, filled the bridge. "Sickbay here, Captain."

"Meet me in the launch bay. We may have someone in need of medical attention."

"Certainly, Captain." Trip thought Phlox sounded a little excited. After all, it had been weeks since he'd had to take care of anything more than a common cold.

"Malcolm," Archer said, turning to face the tactical officer, "grab one or two of your men and meet Phlox in the launch bay. If whoever's inside the pod is hostile, I don't want to be unprepared."

"Of course, Captain," Malcolm said, rising and sounding every bit as excited as Phlox had. This was the kind of stuff he lived for. He was gone in seconds, disappearing from the bridge as the doors to the turbo lift shut solidly in front of him.

"Travis," Archer said, facing forward again, "send out the grappler."

"You got it sir," Travis said, emulating the excitement that Malcolm and Phlox had already displayed. Trip couldn't help smiling. Even he was excited – this was something actually happening, and it was enshrouded in mystery. Plus, it would give him the opportunity to study the Dominion pod at length, something he had never had the chance to do before.

The grappler cable began to pull the pod toward _Enterprise_. Trip turned and started walking towards the door. "I'll go meet the pod in the launch bay, Cap'n," he said. "See if I can get it open."

"Hold on there, Trip," Archer said. Trip whirled around and saw Archer rising from the captain's chair. "I'd like to go with you." Trip nodded as Archer looked at T'Pol. "You should probably come, too. If the occupant of that pod is Vulcan, we may need you."

She nodded sharply, stepping out from behind her console and walking over to join Trip. He felt his chest tighten with her close proximity. Whenever she was near him, he couldn't control himself. He took several deep, calming breaths and ignored the raised eyebrow she was giving him.

Archer walked across the bridge. He stopped in front of the turbo lift and turned around. "Hoshi, you have the bridge." He stepped into the turbo lift and waited for Trip and T'Pol to follow.

Trip and T'Pol glanced at each other, and he jerked his head at the door, indicating that she should go first. She nodded to say that she understood and stepped into the turbo lift beside the captain. Trip entered last and pushed the button for E-deck, another smile creeping across his face.


	2. Vulcan?

Phlox, Malcolm, and two crewmen whose names escaped Archer at the moment were already at the launch bay, circling the pod like vultures. Archer joined them. He tried to peer through the view port but could not see anything, so he joined the others as they walked around the pod. Eventually, he found what he assumed to be the door. It was barely visible – thin lines in the shape of a rectangle on one side of the ship – but the panel could only be a door. There was no other way into the pod.

"How the hell do you open this?" he asked, not meaning to say it out loud.

"I got it, Cap'n," he heard Trip say behind him. Trip materialized at his elbow and began pressing the panel with the tips of his fingers. He moved his hands around, trying out different spots. "These Dominion ships all got catches, you just gotta find 'em."

He pushed for a while, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone else had gathered behind him, and tried almost every spot on the panel until it finally slid open and they could see inside.

As T'Pol had said, there was only one occupant – a young girl who looked no older than twenty-five. She was dressed in a long gown made of what appeared to be red velvet. Her long blonde hair was held back from her face by an intricately carved silver headband. There were no shoes on her feet. She was unconscious, but she didn't have any surface injuries; in fact, she didn't seem to have any injuries at all, from what Archer could tell. But there was no way to be certain until Phlox had examined her.

"Trip, help me out here," Archer said as he climbed into the pod. It was a difficult squeeze, as the pod seemed to have been built for only one occupant, but he managed to wedge himself between the wall and the chair. He started to pick her up out of the chair, and once he had managed to completely remove her from the seat, Trip grabbed her feet and helped Archer extract her from the pod. When they were completely out, Trip helped Archer get a good enough hold so that he could carry her by himself. Her head lolled over the side of his arm, and her hair fell away her face, revealing a pair of decidedly Vulcan ears.

"T'Pol," Trip said before Archer could get the chance. Archer turned his head and saw T'Pol standing off to the side with Phlox.

T'Pol walked over to them and saw the girl lying in Archer's arms. The surprise on her face was subtle, but Archer caught it. There was something else there, too. Recognition, perhaps? Maybe T'Pol knew her.

"Do you know of any Vulcans who may have been taken captive by the Dominions?" Trip asked. He pointed to the pod. "Because that is a Dominion ship, but that," he said, pointing to the girl, "is definitely a Vulcan."

T'Pol shook her head. "I have had no communication with Vulcan for quite some time."

Archer found it odd that she hadn't even been in contact with her husband, but he said nothing and looked down at the girl. She was breathing, but faintly. She seemed to be in some kind of hibernation. Did Vulcans hibernate? He didn't even know. He barely registered the argument that had developed between his chief engineer and science officer; it was common for them to be at each other's throats, especially recently. If a day went by when they did not have an all out battle, he would get worried. But his mind was busy going over the possibilities. It did not seem probable, but perhaps the girl was not Vulcan. However, her appearance suggested otherwise. He could think of no other species with the same pointed ears, the same thin, arched eyebrows. Then again, he couldn't recall having ever seen a Vulcan with blonde hair – or long hair, for that matter.

"I know what I'm talkin' about," Trip said, his voice rising. He and T'Pol stood toe-to-toe. "Can you think of any other logical reason why she would be in a Dominion ship?"

T'Pol's voice was considerably calmer. "I was merely pointing out that if there were a Dominion ship in the area, we would have noticed them." She nodded at the pod, her eyes never leaving Trip's. "That is obviously a short-range escape pod. It is illogical to assume that it got this far into space on its own."

"Exactly my point," Trip said. "Which means there must have been a ship nearby."

"We cannot be certain how long the pod has been here," T'Pol said, her voice becoming more clipped as she continued. "It is possible that it may have been floating here for several days. Perhaps even several weeks."

"You don't know that either. Maybe the Dominions have a cloaking device. Maybe they're here right now."

"I don't believe they have that kind of technology."

"Maybe she's not Vulcan," Archer said, figuring that he should break up the fight before blood was shed. That was all he needed.

"Look at the ears," Trip said, pointing unnecessarily. "What else could she be?"

Archer couldn't shrug, as the girl was in his arms. "I don't know." He turned to look at Phlox, albeit with some difficulty. "What do you think, doctor?"

Phlox shrugged. "Lieutenant Reed told me that the sensors were unable to get a lock on her species?" Archer nodded, and Phlox pursed his lips. "Then there is no way to know for certain until I run some tests. I shall take her to sickbay at once."

As Phlox reached for the girl, she stirred in Archer's arms. He felt her move against him, but only slightly. She raised her head, though it seemed to take a considerable effort. Her eyes – a bright, brilliant blue – were unfocused, but he got the sense that she was looking right through him. She grabbed the front of his uniform to pull herself closer to his face, until she was almost breathing in his ear.

"_Kokua ia'u_," she said. It came out as a gasp; she was obviously in a great deal of pain. "_Mea po'ino_." Then she promptly passed out.

Phlox and Archer looked hastily at T'Pol, who shook her head. "That is not Vulcan," she said.

Archer transferred the girl to Phlox's arms and turned to Malcolm. "Go to the bridge and get Hoshi. Tell her to join us in sickbay." He then turned to Trip and T'Pol. "You two search the pod. See if you can find anything to indicate where she came from. I want to know everything."

Malcolm quickly left, followed by his two security men. T'Pol climbed into the pod, while Trip walked around it, examining the hull, which was badly damaged. Archer looked at Phlox. "Well, doctor, what do you say we take this girl to sickbay?"

Phlox nodded. "Yes. Let's."

* * *

**A/N:** _Kokua ia'u_ - "help me"

_Mea po'ino_ - "danger"

If you can figure out what language she's speaking, like if you speak it or something, I apologize for butchering it, but I'm not that good with languages. I know enough French to survive in Paris (where they all speak English), and in Spanish I can figure out what time it is, but that's about it.


	3. Working Together

**A/N:** This is for all the T/Ters out there. Enjoy the brief interlude!

Thanks for the reviews, guys, I really appreciate it. I'm getting some advice, too, which is super helpful. You're all so much better than the people in my creative writing classes. One class I had - they were merciless. I mean, they completely tore apart my story. I actually went home and cried afterwards (but I'm a crier, I cry at everything, so that's not very shocking). What was I saying? Oh, yeah - thanks!

* * *

Trip and T'Pol worked in silence. They worked best together, though both were too proud to admit it. Trip scanned everything about the exterior of the pod. He even managed to locate the engine, though there didn't appear to be anything wrong with it other than the fact that it was dead. It seemed that the only reason the engine had died was because the fuel cells had been completely drained. That could have taken anywhere from days to weeks, so there was no way for certain to tell how long the girl had been drifting in space. There was something odd about the ship. Trip couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it seemed to have more wear and tear than a normal escape pod should have. It was, as T'Pol had mentioned, a short-range vessel.

He examined the engine further and discovered that certain parts of it had been reinforced with polymerized titanium, a substance nearly ten times stronger than ordinary steel. He continued to poke around and found that several new warp coils had been added, along with one or two new plasma nacelles. He reasoned that, with semi-frequent stops to refuel, the pod could function as a long-range transport. So the girl could logically have come from anywhere nearby.

The dents in the hull were clearly from shots that had hit the pod, but if whoever had shot them had been aiming for the pod, it would have been completely destroyed. Did Dominion escape pods have deflector shields? He couldn't wait for the opportunity to find out. The shots had probably just grazed the hull plating, causing dents but not endangering the pod's occupant. Most likely it had just drifted into a battle on accident.

When he concluded his examination of the outside, he walked over to the still open door. He could hear T'Pol moving around inside. It sounded as though she were shifting boxes around.

"Any luck?" he asked.

She appeared at the door, looking radiant as always, and Trip felt his breath catch in his throat. "I have located several chests in the storage compartment," she said. "They appear to be filled with the girl's personal belongings."

Trip rubbed his hands together excitedly. Hopefully, soon their questions would be answered. "Well, let's have a look."

He started to climb into the pod, but T'Pol held out her hand to stop him. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to search through her belongings."

He snorted. "Why not? Not logical?"

She did a good job of hiding her shocked reaction, but Trip could still see it in her eyes. He was more attuned to her barely-there facial expressions than the rest of the crew. _Probably more than Koss, too,_ he thought. He angrily brushed that thought aside. He couldn't afford to think like that. She was a married woman.

"No," she said. "It would be rude."

Trip pointed in the direction Archer and the others had gone. "Cap'n told us to find out where she came from. We might find something in those chests."

T'Pol stared at him for a long moment, and he felt his resolve melt away under her intense gaze. She had that effect on him. _Get a grip, Tucker_, he ordered himself.

"I suggest we check the ship's log," she said.

"It's an escape pod. I doubt it has a log." He didn't tell her about the modifications to the engine.

She raised an eyebrow. "There is no harm in checking." She maneuvered her way through the pod until she was seated in the chair. Trip pulled himself through the door and squeezed in behind her, leaning over her shoulder to stare at the console as well. Her close proximity made him sweat, and his throat closed up. He hoped there wouldn't be the need to make conversation, as he didn't think he was physically able to speak.

It took them over an hour to go through the entire log. For a simple escape pod, it had an extensive databank, and the girl had obviously kept a detailed account of her travels. Once Trip and T'Pol had scanned the entire log, Trip reasoned that the girl had been living on the pod for years. Perhaps she had been staying with the Dominions and instead of having her own quarters had been sleeping in the pod. But it wouldn't explain the modifications to the engine, or the blast dents in the hull plating. He would have to ask her when she eventually woke.

Trip left the pod first, holding out his hand to help T'Pol down. She accepted it without remark or hesitation, which he supposed was something.

"Should we go tell Cap'n what we found?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I would like to examine the outside."

"I've already done that."

"I would like to see it for myself."

He felt a sarcastic remark well up inside of him, but he swallowed it. He wasn't in the mood to start another argument. Besides, there was something in her eyes. He wondered if perhaps she was simply stalling so that they could spend more time together. They hadn't been alone with each other since their return from Vulcan. Trip couldn't speak for T'Pol, but he didn't trust himself alone with her.

"All right," he said. He followed her around the ship, and when she knelt down to examine the dents in the hull, he leaned against the side. He watched her as she moved, his mouth suddenly dry. He cleared his throat. "So do you think she's Vulcan?"

T'Pol didn't look at him when she answered. "She certainly appears to be."

Trip smiled slightly. "That's not what I asked."

She stood up and glanced at him. "I can think of no other explanation. She resembles Vulcans physically, and her distress call was in Vulcan." She ran her hands along the edge of one of the dents. "However, I did not recognize the language that she was speaking, and the scanners could not lock on her species."

They fell into silence as T'Pol continued her examination of the outer plating. When she was finished, she walked over to where Trip stood and leaned against the hull beside him. Her willingness to stand so close to him told him more than words could ever say.

They stood in silence for a while, and Trip was content to just stand this close to her. It had been such a long time. Their neuro-pressure sessions were nothing but a distant memory. Finally Trip cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well?"

She just looked at him. "The damage to the ship is insignificant. It appears to have some sort of shield."

"That's what I thought," Trip said, as he turned to stare across the launch bay at the shuttle pods. "You reckon we should go find the cap'n and tell him what we found?"

He felt rather than saw her nod. "He is probably still in sickbay with Phlox."


	4. Impossible Explanation

Archer stood over one of the bio beds, staring at the girl. She looked so young. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face and fingered the silver headband almost reverently. It looked very old. He pulled his hand back abruptly, belatedly remembering that Vulcans didn't like to be touched.

"I think I've narrowed it down to a region," Hoshi said behind him. She'd been attempting to translate what the girl had said ever since arriving in sickbay. "It's definitely an Earth language, sir. Give me a few more seconds and I should have it."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Does anyone else find it odd that a Vulcan was speaking an Earth language?"

"What I find odd," Archer said, "was that a Vulcan was in a Dominion ship."

"Got it!" Hoshi said. Both men turned to face her; Phlox was still running tests. Hoshi glanced up at them, beaming. "It's Hawaiian."

"Hawaiian?" Malcolm said, frowning. "That's not a very common language, even on Earth. What do you think it means, sir?"

But Archer didn't have time to respond, as Phlox had finished with his tests. It hadn't taken Phlox long to run the necessary tests – little more than an hour. He determined that she was in hibernation and severely dehydrated. He also found traces of a sedative in her system, which he wouldn't be able to explain until the girl woke. Her body, particularly her arms and upper torso, was peppered with scars of various sizes. The largest ran across her back – a long, ropy scar that stood out against her pale skin.

Archer looked down at the girl again as Phlox analyzed a blood sample he had taken. Her hair splayed out behind her, and Archer kept staring at her ears. They were Vulcan, no doubt about that, but when he watched Phlox draw the blood, it wasn't green, as Vulcan blood should be. It was a murky brown. And then Phlox hit him with an impossible explanation.

Phlox displayed the girl's genetic makeup on one of the monitors. "These chromosomes," he said as he pointed to the screen, "are Vulcan. But these," He pointed again, "are human."

He happened to say this just as Trip and T'Pol wandered into sickbay, obviously to report their findings. They both stared at the monitor, looking incredulous, and Archer knew that they were thinking the same thing that he was. "How?" Archer asked. "According to Lorian, it's you who'll discover a way to successfully combine human and Vulcan genomes."

Lorian was Trip and T'Pol's future son, whom the crew had met briefly several months ago. It was a long and confusing story, and Archer's head still hurt trying to understand everything. Trip and T'Pol looked as though they were on the same wavelength, because they kept exchanging odd glances.

"It is perplexing," Phlox said, which brought Archer back to the present, "but you can't deny the evidence. This girl is half-human, half-Vulcan. It would appear that someone else has beaten me to the discovery."

"It would explain why the scanners were unable to determine her species," T'Pol said, walking over to join Phlox. Her face betrayed no emotion, but Archer had a feeling that she was just as stunned by this news as the rest of them.

"Cap'n," Trip said. Archer turned. Trip stood beside the girl, peering at her closely. His face was inches from hers. "I think I've seen her before."

"What?" Archer moved to stand beside Trip.

"Don't you recognize her? It's been, what, eight, nine years?" Trip whistled. "She's not aged a day." Archer's confusion must have been evident, because Trip laughed. "She used to hang around Starfleet all the time. I remember some of the others talkin' about her. Apparently, she was tryin' to join the academy, but they wouldn't let her in 'cause she was Vulcan."

Archer stared at her, recognition finally dawning on him. He'd only seen brief glimpses of her, but now that Trip brought it up, he did remember her being around Starfleet quite a bit. He crossed his arms and looked at Trip. "Do you think they knew she was half-human?"

Trip shrugged. "They probably didn't believe her. I mean, she looks Vulcan to me."

"This is impossible," T'Pol said. "Surely a half-Vulcan child would have been reported. Humans and Vulcans have never been able to reproduce, and if one couple was able to find a way…" She trailed off, looking at Trip.

"The evidence is in the genetics, Commander," Phlox said, pointing to the monitor again. "Blood doesn't lie."

"Are you saying that there are Vulcan/human couples?" Archer asked. He had never heard of any. Every Vulcan he had ever met, except T'Pol of course, openly despised humans; he couldn't imagine any ever marrying one.

T'Pol looked uncomfortable. "I have heard rumors, but that is all. We are not to speak of those have chosen to bond outside our species." She looked at Phlox. "Were you able to determine her age?"

Phlox nodded. "I was. However, I do not think she would appreciate me telling everyone." He raised his eyebrows. "You of all people should understand that."

T'Pol swallowed and nodded in silent agreement – obviously something between the two of them. Perhaps it was an alien thing. Archer cast a confused glance at Trip and was surprised to see that Trip did not seem confused at all. But glances at both Hoshi and Malcolm confirmed that Archer was not the only person out of the loop on this matter.

"I was merely going to say," T'Pol said, "that most of the Vulcan/human marriages are recent developments – within the past few years. None have produced children, and depending on her age, there are very few couples to whom she could belong."

Archer bit his bottom lip. "Would you know of them?"

She refused to meet his eye. "Only rumors, Captain."

Trip loudly cleared his throat, and Archer tore his eyes away from T'Pol to look at him. "We went through the ship's log, Cap'n. Turns out that thing is way more than an escape pod."

"What do you mean?"

"Looks like she somehow managed to modify it so that it was better suited for deep space travel," Trip said, shrugging. "That pod's been all over the place. There were planets listed in that log that I've never even heard of. T'Pol, too."

Archer looked back at T'Pol, who nodded. Archer was shocked, as Vulcan star charts were quite extensive. Vulcans had been exploring space longer than humans had believed the earth was round, and for there to be a system about which T'Pol did not know was simply incredible.

"It's an amazin' feat of engineerin'," Trip said, his voice filled with awe. "I mean, convertin' a short-range pod into a long-range shuttle takes a certain kind of know-how."

"Well, we know that she's from Earth," Hoshi said. "Which means she probably speaks English." She paused, fingering the translator she held in her hand. "But then, why isn't she speaking it now?"

No one could answer that; it was something Archer had been mulling over since Hoshi informed him the language was Hawaiian. Perhaps it was just her delirium that was causing her to speak Hawaiian instead of Vulcan or English.

"Can you tell us what she said?" Malcolm asked, striding over to join Hoshi.

Hoshi nodded, examining the translator. "_Kokua ia'u_ means 'help me'. _Mea po'ino_ means 'danger'."

Archer looked down at the girl. She had said "danger", but did she mean that she was in danger or they were? She must have been talking about herself, because according to Phlox she had been in hibernation for weeks, so she would not have known about a threat to _Enterprise_. She probably didn't even know where she was. But who was she in danger from? Whoever had put her in the escape pod? Whoever had drugged her? If that was the case, why had they just not followed the shuttle and finished her off? With her unconscious, it would have been all too easy. He caught sight of one of her many scars and wondered if perhaps she was in danger from whoever had given her those. They could be one and the same. There was no way of knowing.

"Doctor, did you look at this?" T'Pol asked. Archer shook himself out of his reverie to see that T'Pol had been examining the doctor's findings. She was pointing at something on a monitor, something that Archer and the others could not see.

"Of course," Phlox said, coming over. "The activity is astronomical. There is activity in zones that I'm not even sure what they do. I'm not very familiar with the human brain."

"What are you talking about?" Archer asked. His head was pounding. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. The whole situation was growing more complicated than he cared to deal with at the moment.

"Her brain activity," Phlox said. He pushed a few buttons, and the readout he and T'Pol had been studying replaced the map of the girl's DNA on the wall screen. It looked like a heart monitor or the results of a seismometer – a bunch of zigzags with a few larger spikes here and there. "It's off the charts."

Archer gave him a quizzical look. "What exactly are we looking at?"

T'Pol stepped forward, pointing to the spikes on the graph. "The average human uses only ten percent of his brain. The average Vulcan, approximately fifteen percent." She pointed to the girl. "She is using almost thirty-three percent."

"What, are you sayin' she's, like, psychic or something?" Trip asked.

T'Pol pursed her lips. "Most Vulcans demonstrate limited psychic ability, and mates have a strong telepathic bond. Since she is half-Vulcan, it is only logical to assume that she would have those as well, at least to some degree. But she is using more of her brain than the average Vulcan and the average human combined."

Archer looked at T'Pol. He thought he realized where she was going with this. "You don't think this is natural."

T'Pol and Phlox exchanged a look, and T'Pol shook her head, turning back to Archer. "I think she was engineered this way." She walked over to the girl, gently pushed her onto her side, and pointed to two thin scars on the back of her neck. "I believe these are from an operation."

Archer stared at the scars. They were long, thin, and expertly done, quite unlike the scars on the rest of her body. "They do look like scars from sort of surgery."

"So do we think whoever she's runnin' from did this to her?" Trip asked.

T'Pol stiffened visibly. "If that were true, it would mean they were extremely advanced. Not even Vulcans have the technology to do something like this."

Archer nodded thoughtfully. "So it's safe to assume that the Dominions didn't do this to her." T'Pol nodded. "Well, at least that's something. It still doesn't explain how she got on a Dominion escape pod in the first place."

"What is wrong with her?" T'Pol asked. She had turned away from the monitors to stare at the girl.

Phlox coughed. "She's in hibernation."

"Do Vulcans hibernate?" Archer asked T'Pol.

"It is uncommon," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "But it does happen. It's a survival instinct." She looked at Phlox. "Is it only her hibernation that keeps her unconscious?"

Phlox shook his head. "She's seriously dehydrated. We have no way of knowing when she last ate. Her delirium is most likely hunger-induced, and she will be weak for some time, but I expect she will respond to a steady drip of nutrients. She should wake in a day or two."

Archer nodded at Phlox. "Keep me posted." He turned to Trip. "Have your crew tear that ship apart. If she managed to fit it for long-range travel, I want to know how."

Trip nodded, looking uncertain. "Sure, Cap'n. No sweat."

"Did you find anything else on board that might be of any help?"

Trip and T'Pol exchanged a look, and T'Pol cleared her throat. "There were several chests of the girl's personal belongings, but that is all."

Archer sighed. He didn't want to invade someone's privacy, but they had no way of knowing how long the girl would be unconscious, and if she was still in some kind of danger, _Enterprise_ was now in danger as well. He had to know everything he could. "Go through her things," he said to T'Pol. "Be thorough, but not overly invasive. I just want to know if there's anything suspicious that we should be aware of."

If T'Pol did not approve of his orders she made no show of it. "Yes, Captain."

* * *

**A/N:** I actually had someone guess the language Kamea was speaking. Rock on! And my apologies to anyone who is actually Hawaiian, as I'll most likely be butchering your language in upcoming chapters. Like I said before, my grasp of languages (other than English), not so good.


	5. Electric

Malcolm headed down to sickbay, clutching a sealed black bowl in his hands. He nodded at crewmen as he walked through the corridors. Outside sickbay, he stopped, opened the bowl, and checked its contents. The sliced pineapple looked fine, so he replaced the cover, smiling. Phlox had said that the girl would need food when she woke, as she hadn't eaten in weeks, and Malcolm had managed to procure a bowl of pineapples – his favorite food – for her.

It was just an excuse to see her. It had been two days since she'd been brought on board, and he'd been thinking of a reason to visit sickbay again every since. He wasn't the only one. He noticed that Travis kept volunteering to take things to Phlox, and more and more crewmembers were complaining of illnesses. Some had even purposely injured themselves to have an excuse to go see Phlox. Malcolm suspected that they were doing the same thing he was – trying to sneak a peak at the girl. The only difference was that they wanted to satisfy their curiosity, and he was acting under the orders of a different part of his anatomy.

When Trip had managed to open the door and they'd gotten their first glimpse of the girl, Malcolm's heart had skipped a beat. Her features were soft, and her skin seemed to glow. Her hair sparkled in the light, and the gown had clung to all the right places on her body. She was the most beautiful woman Malcolm had ever seen.

Malcolm walked into sickbay and discovered that Corporal Kelley was already there, receiving a hypospray from Phlox.

"If the symptoms return," Phlox said, "come back immediately."

Kelley nodded and glanced over his shoulder at something, then headed out the door. He saluted Malcolm as he passed, and Malcolm nodded in response. He looked back at what Kelley had been looking at and saw that the bio bed containing the half-Vulcan girl had been concealed by a number of curtains.

"It was necessary," Phlox said, and Malcolm walked over to him. "People kept coming in to look at her. I felt I should give her some privacy." Phlox looked up at Malcolm. "And what are you suffering from, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm smiled, assuming that the note of annoyance in Phlox's voice came from the fake illnesses the crew had been coming to him with for the past two days. "Then I presume there is nothing wrong with Corporal Kelley?"

Phlox sighed and set about putting away the hypospray container. "I've been giving placebos to anyone coming into sickbay. If they come back later still complaining, then I know that there is really a problem. However, most of the crew have said nothing, so I can only assume that they came to see the girl." He looked up at Malcolm. "Is that why you are here?"

"Afraid so," Malcolm said, setting the bowl of pineapples down on the table in front of him. "You said she was severely dehydrated and that she'd need food when she woke up, so I brought her some pineapples." He took the lid off the bowl to show that he was telling the truth. "I was hoping to get another look at her when I brought them down."

Phlox smiled and picked up the bowl. "You are not the first to do so." He pointed at a bio bed across the room, which was filled with food, including several slices of pecan pie, which could only have come from Trip. "Commander Tucker seems most anxious for the girl to wake. I believe he wants to talk engineering with her."

Malcolm nodded. "He's pretty impressed with the modifications to her ship." He leaned back slightly, trying to peek around the curtains. "I don't suppose I could just take a quick look at her?"

Phlox regarded him seriously for a moment. Then he handed him the bowl of pineapples. "Well, I suppose, since you did bring her food, it couldn't hurt."

Malcolm accepted the bowl and walked around the curtains, placing the pineapples on the bio bed with the rest of the food as he did so. When he saw her again, his breath caught in his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Her skin glistened under the lights, which Malcolm assumed was from perspiration due to her condition. Her breathing was shallow, but he watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. If possible, she was even more beautiful than before.

He had just turned to go when he caught sight of movement under the sheet. He stared. The girl was moving her hands. "Phlox!" he said.

Phlox ran over as the girl continued to stir. She tossed back and forth, flinging her hair over her face, and strands clung to the sweat on her neck. She was panting with the effort, but she hadn't yet opened her eyes. Malcolm bent down and placed his hand on her forehead, then looked at Phlox with concern. "She's drenched."

"Perhaps her fever's finally breaking," Phlox said, joining Malcolm at the girl's side.

The girl moaned in her sleep, and both Malcolm and Phlox looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was moving wordlessly. She was obviously trying to say something.

"_Hala-kahiki_," she said. It was almost a hiss. Malcolm had to lean in close to make certain he'd heard her correctly. "_Hala-kahiki_."

Malcolm looked expectantly at Phlox. "What did she say?"

Phlox shrugged. "I am not as adept as Hoshi at translating. Shall I call her down?"

Malcolm shook his head and looked down at the girl again. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened, though it was obviously difficult for her. She caught Malcolm's eye and it seemed as though his heart had stopped beating. Her eyes were the most beautiful color of blue he had ever seen, and they were bottomless. He felt that if he stared long enough, he could see into her soul, and he got the feeling that it was the same for her.

They stared at each other for a while, her unfocused eyes seeing only him, and then the girl's lips parted. "_Aloha_," she said. And then she lost consciousness.

Malcolm stared at Phlox in amazement. Phlox, however, didn't seem to notice Malcolm. He was concentrating on the girl. "Poor thing is exhausted," he said. "The effort of speaking obviously took a lot out of her. I was hoping that the nutrient drip would help her regain some strength, but it looks like it may take longer than I had previously anticipated." He wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. "She is very fortunate to still be alive."

Malcolm nodded, barely hearing the doctor's words. "It's best if I just let her rest then," he said. He mumbled a quick goodbye to Phlox and wandered into the corridor, his mind reeling. In one intense stare, the girl had stripped him completely bare, leaving his naked soul exposed to those who knew what to see. He felt somehow connected to her, a connection that had happened almost instantly, but one that he was quite certain of.

He took a deep, calming breath and started for the turbo lift. The most intimate moment in his entire life had just happened, and he hadn't even touched the girl.

* * *

**A/N:** _hala-kahiki_ - "pineapple"

If you don't know what _aloha_ means... Well, you should all know what that means.


	6. The Lady Wakes

Kamea opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The bright lights were so blinding that they made her head pound, although there could have been other reasons for the pain in her temples. After all, brightness had never bothered her before. She slowly pushed herself onto her elbows to look around. She was obviously in some sort of hospital, though where the hospital was she could not say. She fingered the tube in her arm and realized it must be providing her with nutrients she had been unable to get during her hibernation.

Someone came into the room then – a Denobulan, from the looks of him. She vaguely recognized him from the few times she had come to over the past few days and could sense that he meant her no harm. He was staring at her curiously, though. It was unnerving.

"So, you're awake," he said, too cheerfully for Kamea's taste. "Have a nice sleep?"

Kamea cocked an eyebrow. "I have had better," she said. "Where am I?"

The Denobulan smiled. "Aboard the USS _Enterprise_. My name is Phlox. I am the ship's chief physician."

She was familiar with the name _Enterprise_. They had still been building it when she left Earth; it seemed like decades ago. In fact, when she had left, Starfleet had still been trying to crack warp three. She wondered what _Enterprise's_ top speed was now, and if there was any way she could subtly slip that into the conversation.

Phlox was at her bedside in seconds. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him and said, with all the seriousness she could muster, "I have to pee."

Phlox directed her to the adjacent bathroom and she padded, barefoot, across the room. When she was finished, she reemerged into sickbay, inexpressibly relieved. She'd had to pee for weeks. "I am also hungry," she said, "if you have any food to spare."

The Denobulan pointed to the bio bed opposite her own, which had been piled high with various types of food. She grabbed the first thing that attracted her attention – a sealed black bowl – and pried the lid off. The most wonderful scent hit her – pineapples, her favorite. She reached into the bowl and grabbed a piece, tasting it gingerly. Then she shoveled the rest into her mouth with such force that she almost choked.

"You're eating with your hands," Phlox said, gesturing at the bowl.

It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to the fact that most Vulcans did not eat with their hands. She'd considered herself human for so long that the concept had completely slipped her mind. She gave him a tiny smile. "I am sure that by now you will have realized that I am only half-Vulcan, and as I have not eaten for several weeks, I hope you can forgive the lapse in decorum."

He smiled again and walked over to her. "What is your name?"

She shoved the last of the pineapples in her mouth and swallowed them without chewing, almost choking again. Then she licked the juice off her fingers. "Kamea."

He took the bowl from her and gestured to the still full bio bed. She picked up a piece of pecan pie and sniffed it, then inhaled it hungrily. When she had eaten every last morsel, she moved on to the next bit of food, until she'd consumed nearly half of the offerings on the bio bed. She wiped her fingers on the gown she was wearing, and Phlox appeared at her elbow, holding her red gown. She was reluctant to put it back on – she'd worn it for almost a month – but she had no other options. It was either that or walk to her ship in the hospital gown. And she wasn't yet comfortable enough on board to do that.

She retreated behind the curtains to change. "How many are there aboard?"

"Eighty-two," came Phlox's voice from the other side of the curtain, though she could barely hear it through the fabric of her gown, which she pulled over her head. "We lost many during our war with the Xindi and acquired new recruits on our return to Earth."

Kamea felt a pang in her heart and a sharp pain in the back of her head, which she was sure was related. She fought with the zipper on the back of her gown and only managed to tug it as far up as her mid-back. "I sympathize with you and your shipmates. It is never easy to lose someone." She closed her eyes, concentrated on the zipper, and felt it close. She ran her hands along the tops of her thighs to smooth out the wrinkles and stepped out from behind the curtain.

"If you don't mind," Phlox said, "the captain wished to see you as soon as you were awake. He has many questions to ask you."

Kamea smiled ruefully. She was sure that the captain would not like what she had to say. She climbed back into the bed. "Very well," she said. She allowed herself a smirk. "I suppose I feel strong enough for an interrogation. You may contact the captain."

* * *

**A/N:** I guessed at the crew complement. Sound right to anyone else?


	7. More Questions

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it! And to clarify, it isn't only the men who bring food - it just so happens the only two people I mentioned were guys.

I'm afraid there may be more questions than answers in this section, but don't worry, the answers are coming!

* * *

T'Pol tried to identify the emotion that was welling up inside her. She still wasn't used to the emotions, despite having dealt with them for months now. There was a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. Guilt – that was it. She felt guilty because she was in the process of rifling through someone's personal effects for no apparent reason other than to assuage the captain's curiosity. She had avoided it for several days but could avoid it no longer. She had wanted to argue against the captain's order but could think of no excuse other than it was a violation of privacy. Vulcans, as a whole, were very private people.

But T'Pol found it difficult to think of the girl as Vulcan. Her appearance suggested otherwise, but T'Pol had grown up believing that a human/Vulcan union was not only impossible but also illogical. The Vulcan High Command deemed humans an inferior species, and relationships between the two species were riddled with problems.

Still, the girl lying in sickbay was proof positive that at least one such marriage had managed to successfully produce offspring. If there was one, perhaps there were more. Perhaps there were a number of previously unknown human/Vulcan hybrids scattered throughout the galaxy.

T'Pol took a deep breath and removed the lid from the first chest. She pulled out several articles of clothing – mostly Earth clothes, but there were a few catsuits that resembled T'Pol's own wardrobe, and two more gowns like the one she'd been wearing. The clothes had been folded so precisely to exactly fit within the confines of the chest, and T'Pol could not ascertain how the girl had managed to do that. After ten minutes of trying, she finally gave up and simply replaced the lid on top of the pile of clothes she'd shoved inside.

The next chest was far more interesting. It contained a collection of books, including a battered copy of _The Teachings of Surak_ – in Vulcan. There was another copy of the same book, translated into English and in much better condition. T'Pol pulled book after book out of the chest and marveled at the variety of titles: _The Complete Poems of Robert Frost_, a biography of Zephram Cochrane, and something called _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

She opened this last book and a picture fell from the pages. She peered at it. It seemed to be a picture of the girl as a child, surrounded by people T'Pol assumed to be her parents. The woman was beautiful, smiling elegantly, long blonde hair blowing in a breeze. Her brown eyes glittered as she gazed at her daughter. The man was the epitome of a stiff Vulcan, unsmiling, his pale face cold. But his blue eyes were filled with something T'Pol recognized as affection; she saw it in Trip's eyes whenever he looked at her.

There was something familiar about the man in the picture, though T'Pol couldn't quite place it. And his eyes were most intriguing, as T'Pol couldn't recall having ever seen a Vulcan with blue eyes.

She heard someone approach from behind and tensed automatically, but a familiar scent met her nose and she knew it was Trip. She relaxed slightly, allowing her shoulders to drop just a hair. She certainly felt more at ease with Trip than with any other member of the crew – including the captain – and the thought terrified her. She was married, bonded to Koss, and nothing would change that. But what she felt for Trip she would never feel her husband, no matter how long they were married.

"Have you finished dismantling the craft?" she asked, without even bothering to turn around.

"All done," Trip said, walking around the chests. "Seems a shame to tear it apart, though. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship." He sat down opposite her and picked the top book off the stack. "Thought you could use a hand over here." He squinted at the title. "_Brief History of Time_," he said. He gave a low whistle. "Wow." He put down the book and glanced up at her. "What's that you got there?"

She held the picture out for him to see, and as he took it from her, his fingers brushed against hers. She stifled her body's reaction to his touch and forced herself to remain composed.

Trip smiled and ran his finger over the photograph. "She looks like her dad. She's even got his eyes." He stared at the picture for a few more seconds, then looked at her. "You ever think it'd be possible? A Vulcan and a human gettin' married?"

She was sure the question was, to use an Earth term, loaded. Trip was obviously looking for something specific, and he would no doubt use her answer to relate to them and their situation, whatever that was. And he would almost certainly misinterpret whatever she said; he was excellent in that capacity. "It is possible." She wanted to tell him that he should know it was possible, as their counterparts on the second _Enterprise_ had married. "It is, however, illogical."

The smile faded from Trip's face. T'Pol was sad to see it go. "Darlin', some of the best things in life are illogical." He flipped the picture around, showing it to her. "Look at them. You think they cared about logic? The best decisions in the world aren't made with logic. They're made with the heart."

T'Pol glanced up sharply. She remembered Trip saying that to her before. Only it hadn't actually been Trip who said it. Had it only been a dream?

_Follow your heart_. That was what T'Pol's counterpart had said, when referring to her relationship with Trip. But the other T'Pol hadn't been given the choice between love and saving her mother's honor. T'Pol steeled her gaze and told him what she had told herself. "What if the heart doesn't know what it wants?"

He shook his head sadly. "The heart never knows what it wants. It only knows what it feels." He slid the picture back between the pages of the book he'd been holding. "Whaddaya say we open that last chest?"

She didn't trust herself to speak. Never before had she heard such confusing advice. What good were feelings going to do her if she was unable to act on them? She simply nodded, and he tossed the books back into their chest and slid it aside. She pulled the remaining one between them and removed the lid.

Trip grabbed the first item, a wreath of wilted flowers. He smiled at the sight of it, then deposited the wreath around his neck. "Cool," he said. "I just got lei'd."

T'Pol narrowed her eyes. She understood the term; she had heard several male crewmembers using it to refer to sexual conquests, but she could not fathom why Trip would apply the term to a flower necklace. "I beg your pardon, Commander?"

"It's a joke, T'Pol," he said. He gestured at the wreath. "This is a lei. They're Hawaiian in origin. You get them at luaus – they're parties – and when we'd have them in college, we used to walk around sayin' we got lei'd. Only we'd spell it like lei, you know, kind of a play on words."

She raised an eyebrow, and he coughed, obviously uncomfortable. "So it is human humor," she said. He nodded, and she continued to stare at him, one eyebrow cocked. The amount of asinine colloquialisms that humans had never ceased to amaze her. She wished a tutorial on Earth slang had been included in her education of the species. She didn't like finding out what a term meant after it had been used; it made her feel inadequate, somehow, as if she didn't know as much as she should.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "It's not like I made up the joke."

T'Pol chose not to comment, instead reaching inside the chest and pulling out the next item – a string of beads. She held them out at arm's length, then followed Trip's lead and placed them around her neck. She shot a defiant glare at him, and he grinned.

"Those're prayer beads," he said. "A rosary. Looks like our little hybrid's Catholic. Or at least someone in her family was. I'm bettin' it was her mother. She was probably excommunicated for marryin' way outside the church."

T'Pol furrowed her brow in confusion. She knew from _Enterprise's_ extensive databank what "excommunicated" meant and that Catholicism was an Earth religion, but she had never bothered to examine it any further. Such knowledge had not seemed to be important, but now her curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean?"

Trip lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, normally Catholics only marry Catholics. Religious differences are huge, you know. People used to kill 'cause of 'em."

She thought of the different factions of Vulcans and dreaded what would happen if they ever decided to declare war on each other. She also decided that Trip's explanation had been unsatisfactory and resolved to research the topic when she next had the opportunity. She removed the beads and watched as Trip pulled out the next thing – a woven blanket. He unfolded it, and T'Pol saw that symbols had been stitched into the fabric.

"Think it means anythin'?" Trip asked, examining the writing.

T'Pol stared, unable to believe her eyes. _Impossible_, she thought. _That is impossible_. She forced herself to speak, lest Trip grow suspicious. "It is Vulcan," she said. "It is a custom on Vulcan for mothers to make blankets for their children." She pointed to the symbols. "That is a name."

Trip scratched his head. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort, and for that she was grateful. "What does it say? What name's on it?"

She opened her mouth, unsure of how to respond. She couldn't tell him the truth, but what other choice did she have? Her mind fought to recall some name, any name, that she could tell him; he couldn't read Vulcan. He need never know that she had lied. But in her stunned state she could barely remember her own name. Thankfully, before she had the chance to answer, the companel buzzed. "Archer to Tucker."

Trip rose and walked to the companel on the wall. "Commander Tucker."

Archer's voice filled the room. "Is T'Pol there with you?"

"Yeah, Cap'n. We were just goin' through the girl's things."

"Meet me in sickbay," Archer said. He sounded urgent, so T'Pol got to her feet. "She's awake."


	8. The One and Only

Archer strode into sickbay, flanked by Trip and T'Pol on one side and Malcolm and Hoshi on the other. He wanted his senior staff present, though he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't know what to make of their visitor, especially when he saw her awake and being fussed over by Phlox. She was gently pushing the excitable doctor away, and suddenly her blue eyes locked on the captain's.

She cocked an eyebrow, nodding her head at the others. Her face was completely stoic. "I was under the impression that you alone wanted to talk to me, Captain. I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," Malcolm said, and amusement flickered in the girl's eyes.

Archer shot a warning glance at Malcolm, who quickly averted his eyes, then turned back to the girl. She was regarding him curiously, much the same way he assumed he was regarding her. "I'm Jonathan Archer, captain of the USS _Enterprise_."

She bowed her head, then straightened and settled against the bed. "Ionakana," she said, with a bit of a smile. "Gift of God, i believe."

Archer furrowed his brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ionakana. Jonathan. I believe it means 'gift of God'." She coughed, apparently uncomfortable. "My mother thought that you could tell a great deal about a person by his name. She reasoned that parents set their children up for a certain life by the name they bestowed upon them. For example, my name is Kamea."

"What does it mean?"

Her smile was faint and sad. "The one and only."

He felt that to be accurate but said nothing. He gestured to the others, who were standing, somewhat awkwardly, behind him. "My senior officers," he said. He introduced them all, starting with Hoshi, on his left, and ending with T'Pol, on his right. Kamea's eyes widened a fraction when T'Pol's name was announced.

She held up her palm with her fingers split down the middle, in what Archer knew to be a traditional Vulcan greeting and supposedly a sign of great respect. "_Diftor-heh smusma_, Commander T'Pol," Kamea said.

T'Pol returned the gesture and said, "_Sochya eh dif_." Both women lowered their hands. "You know Vulcan," T'Pol said. "I had thought that, having been raised among humans, you would have been ignorant of our culture."

Kamea's eyes darkened. "My father taught me a few words, but things between him and Vulcan were somewhat…strained."

Archer grabbed a chair, set it beside Kamea's bed, and sank into it. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and eyeballed Kamea. She stared back at him, seemingly not the least bit intimidated. Her face was expressionless, and even though he had spent nearly four years in the company of a Vulcan, he was unable to detect anything in her features. Perhaps it was just because he was used to T'Pol.

He knew what his first question was going to be, but he couldn't think of a good way to word it. "Who are you?" he asked.

She didn't miss a beat. "You mean cosmically?"

Malcolm and Trip suddenly started coughing, which Archer assumed was to cover up their laughter, as both were smiling. T'Pol shot an angry glance at Trip, who shrugged and turned his attention back to Kamea. Archer had to admit, for a Vulcan, that was a pretty good attempt at a joke.

Archer shook his head. "I meant – "

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I know what you meant. I was being facetious." She examined her fingernails. "Is there anything in particular you wish to know, or shall I just start at the beginning?"

He looked at his senior officers. "Seems as good a place to start as any."

Kamea sighed. "Very well. My father was fascinated with humans. He was a member of the mission that made first contact, April 5, 2063." She looked pointedly at T'Pol. "The first documented contact." She turned back to Archer. "From then on, he became obsessed. He wanted to know everything about human culture, so he remained on Earth to study them. While he was on Earth, he met my mother. Eventually, they fell in love, and he took her back to Vulcan. They were…not well received."

"I can imagine," Archer said, knowing that the relationship between humans and Vulcans was considered rocky at best. It had been much worse around the time frame when Kamea's parents would have been married. T'Pol narrowed her eyes at Archer.

Kamea ignored them and continued. "My father presented my mother to the High Command and to his family. He intended to bond with her, but my father was already bonded. He barely knew his betrothed, and he was in love with my mother, so he informed the High Command that if they did not allow them permission to bond, he would resign. When they ordered him to remain on Vulcan, he resigned his post and returned to Earth – to Hawaii, my mother's birthplace. They were married in a traditional Polynesian – " She stopped abruptly, staring at something over Archer's shoulder. "Are you wearing my lei?"

Archer turned and for the first time noticed the wilted lei around Trip's neck. "Um, yeah." His face reddened significantly as he removed the lei and handed it to Kamea. "Sorry 'bout that." He walked back over to T'Pol, who had raised her eyebrows at him. "So your father resigned? I bet that didn't go over well."

"My father was from a very prominent family," Kamea said, shooting a glare at Trip, "and they were apparently greatly dishonored by his actions. As I understand, it was only through the efforts of his sister that the family managed to retain any of its status. I believe she taught at the academy."

T'Pol glanced up at this. "And his sister would be…?"

Kamea shrugged. "He didn't often talk about her. I am uncertain if she still lives." But she didn't look uncertain to Archer. Something was definitely going on.

"Try us," Archer said. He gestured to T'Pol. "I'm sure T'Pol would know of her."

"Very well," Kamea said. She shifted her gaze to T'Pol. "Her name was T'Les."

Archer's jaw dropped. T'Les was T'Pol's mother, unless there was more than one T'Les on Vulcan. And her status with the High Command had been threatened by T'Pol's untraditional actions over the years – her continued service with _Enterprise_ being the major one. She'd lost her job at the academy and had only been reinstated after T'Pol agreed to marry Koss, whose father had a great deal of influence on Vulcan. Everyone was now looking at T'Pol. She was obviously stunned, and for once could apparently think of nothing to say. She simply stared at Kamea.

Malcolm broke the uncomfortable silence that had suddenly fallen. "Does that mean that you and T'Pol are…"

"Cousins," Kamea said.

"Do you have any evidence to substantiate your claim?" T'Pol asked, a hint of irritation in her voice – something she normally reserved for Trip.

"Nothing tangible, I'm afraid," Kamea said. "My father didn't keep many of his Vulcan artifacts." She raised a defiant eyebrow. "But tell me, Commander, when was the last time you visited Carbon Creek, Pennsylvania?"

Archer and Trip exchanged a look. Some time ago, T'Pol had told them a story about three Vulcans who had been stranded in the small mining town of Carbon Creek almost two centuries ago – more than a hundred years before documented first contact. The female of the trio, T'Pol had claimed, was her second foremother – her mother's mother's mother – T'Mir. If Kamea knew the details behind the fairly obscure story, she had to be telling the truth.

"This is impossible," T'Pol said. Archer looked at her questioningly. She had seemed to adopt that phrase as her personal mantra over the past few days. "Vulcans and humans have never been able to reproduce."

"True," Kamea said. "I believe that I am the first successful product of a human/Vulcan pairing. ButI could be wrong, you know. No one is infallible."

"Successful?" Archer asked.

Kamea nodded. "Generally, the child in question is miscarried, or stillborn, or lives only a few days." She rubbed her chin. "My parents tried multiple times. I was the fourth to be conceived, but the only one to live."

T'Pol stepped forward. "The reason no hybrid has ever survived is because our species are too different biologically."

Kamea shrugged. "So are horses and donkeys, but they can reproduce."

"But the hybrids are sterile," Archer said.

Kamea looked pained. "Don't remind me." She leaned forward. "My father was a scientist. He studied both humans and Vulcans extensively, and he determined that it is not our biological makeup that makes it so difficult to reproduce, but the reproductive cycles themselves." She folded her arms across her chest. "After all, the _pon'farr_ is radically unlike anything humans undergo."

"Because Vulcans only have sex every seven years," Trip said.

The look on Kamea's face was priceless. She clearly though Trip was oversimplifying the situation. "Vulcans can engage in intercourse whenever they choose, but must do so every seven years." She turned her attention back to Archer. "In order for my mother to conceive, my father needed to find a way to overcome the barrier between their species."

"What, havin' kids without havin' sex?" Trip asked. He looked appalled by the thought.

Kamea shot him a glare – not just a hard look, like T'Pol would have done, but an actual glare. Her human side probably left her more open to her emotions. "Not exactly. My father discovered, through years of research, that under controlled circumstances, with the proper application of certain stimuli, it was possible for my mother to conceive." She paused at the looks on their faces. "It isn't as complicated as it sounds. At least, I don't think it is. I'm not a scientist. Anyway, since Vulcan males only produce sperm during _pon'farr_, they could only try every seven years." She looked at her fingernails again, then flicked her eyes to Phlox. "Perhaps one day, someone will discover an easier way."

Archer furrowed his brow. The simple gesture resonated with him; could she know that one day Phlox would discover how to combine human and Vulcan genomes? How was that possible? Unless… Archer's thoughts drifted back to the scan of her brain activity and T'Pol's insistence that the girl may have some psychic abilities.

He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but Trip cut him off. "What if a human male and a Vulcan female wanted to have kids?"

Archer looked at Trip in shock. He knew that Trip and T'Pol had grown close during their time in the expanse, but he had never imagined their relationship had evolved into anything beyond friendship. They were polar opposites. Besides, T'Pol was married to Koss, and she was certainly not the type of woman to betray a marriage vow. Nor was the Trip the type of man who would go after another man's wife.

Kamea bit her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. "The idea behind my father's experiment was to make the sperm and the egg of two different species compatible, so logically it should be the same procedure. Only, since a Vulcan female is always fertile, there would be no constrictions as to when the couple would need to conceive."

"Question," Archer said, before Trip could say anything else. Kamea raised her eyebrows. "During your hibernation, you exhibited extraordinary levels of brain activity – "

The corners of Kamea's mouth tugged upward in the trace hint of a smile. "My father's life's work, you know. He believed the reason that Vulcans do not like humans is because of neural capacity. Vulcans are able to use a higher percentage of their brains than humans, and my father was certain that this is the reason Vulcans feel superior."

Trip looked at T'Pol. "Whaddaya think? That true?"

T'Pol appeared uncomfortable with the question. "It is not the only reason."

Kamea obviously sensed that an argument was about to break out, because she loudly cleared her throat. Trip and T'Pol both looked back at her, and she continued. "My father developed a theory, that if he could increase the output of a human's brain, perhaps Vulcans would have no reason to view them as inferior. He reasoned that, by connecting certain synapses in the brain, different zones could be activated, increasing mental capabilities. Unfortunately, he had no one on which to test this theory, as the procedure is highly risky. No one wished to volunteer."

Archer remembered the scars on the back of Kamea's neck and was sickened to think it was her own father who had done that. "So he used you."

The look that Kamea gave him could have melted their reactor core. "My _makua kane_ was a great man, and I resent the implication that he would do something like that to his _kaikamahine_." She straightened. "I volunteered."

Malcolm stepped forward. "Why would you volunteer for something so dangerous?"

She turned to him, her face sad. "Do you know what it is like to be alone, Lieutenant?"

Malcolm nodded. Archer knew that not very many people knew Malcolm well – not even his own family. He opened up more the longer her spent on _Enterprise_, but he was still a very private person. "Yes, I do," he said.

Kamea regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head slowly. "No, you don't. I mean truly alone. You have fellow crewmen who trust you, respect you, care for you, are willing to risk their lives for yours." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I have no one. I am the only one of my kind – anywhere. Vulcan High Command refuses to recognize me. Humans do not trust me. I do not belong to any one culture. I am forever torn between the two."

"What about your parents?" Hoshi asked. Archer started. He'd forgotten that she was even there.

Kamea lowered her head and spoke to her lap. "They died. Several years ago."

Archer assumed that they had died of natural causes and didn't push the issue further. He suddenly felt a great wave of pity for the girl. He decided to veer away from the uncomfortable area into which the conversation had wandered. "So your father's procedure was successful?"

Kamea kept her face impassive. "To a degree. Unfortunately, there was a flaw in my father's theory."

Archer leaned back in his chair. "What kind of flaw?"

"He activated the separate zones of my brain, but for some reason, they can only be accessed during periods of highly charged emotional outbursts. In other words…" She trailed off, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"When you lose control," T'Pol said. Kamea nodded.

"I thought Vulcans didn't lose control," Trip said.

Kamea looked at Trip as though he were purposely trying to anger her. She looked eerily reminiscent of T'Pol during the early stages of their mission. "Vulcan's don't," Kamea said. "But I am only half-Vulcan. My human side puts me at a distinct disadvantage; I am not able to control my emotions as well."

Phlox looked concerned. "Meditation doesn't help?"

"I must confess I was never very good at meditation," Kamea said, a dark tinge appearing on the apples of her cheeks. "As I child, I could not sit still, and so my father gave up trying to teach me."

Archer tried to steer the conversation back to the original topic. Kamea's explanation of her operation was intriguing. "So what exactly happens when you lose control?"

Kamea exhaled slowly. "A different zone or lobe in my brain is opened. Once it is opened, it cannot be closed. Well, that's in theory. Technically, I suppose it could be closed through an invasive procedure like my father's, but it would beextremely risky."

Archer cleared his throat. "So what kinds of things can you do?"

Kamea cocked an eyebrow and looked around the room. Her eyes finally rested on an empty bowl on the bio bed across from her. She removed her headband and stretched out her arm, hand open. The bowl flew across the room and landed in Kamea's waiting fingers. She looked at Archer. "Lots of things."

Archer knew his mouth was open, but he couldn't make himself close it. Trip, Malcolm, Phlox, and Hoshi all had similar reactions. Only T'Pol seemed unsurprised. "How is your telepathy?" she asked.

Kamea shrugged. "I am out of practice."

Archer suddenly understood how Kamea had known that Phlox would one day discover a way for humans and Vulcans to reproduce. "You can read our minds?" he asked.

"There are four different kinds of telepathy," Kamea said. "I have the ability to do all of them. I don't, under normal circumstances. A person's mind is private, and I only delve into it if I am left with no other option."

"What are the four kinds of telepathy?" Malcolm asked.

Kamea ticked them off on her fingers as she listed them. "The most common is reading. Reading is not actually telepathy; it is interpreting facial expressions, vocal inflections, and body language to determine what a person is feeling. Theoretically, anyone can read someone.Then there is actual telepathy – hearing someone else's thoughts. Next is a mind-probe, which enables the prober to see into someone's mind. They can see memories and dreams, but it is unidirectional. Last is the Vulcan mind-meld." Kamea and T'Pol exchanged a look. "It is similar to a mind-probe, except that the connection goes both ways. But I have never done a mind-meld. They are reserved for…special occasions."

"So that would be a yes?" Archer asked.

The muscles in Kamea's jaw tightened. "Yes."

"Only the Minority are able to perform a mind-meld," T'Pol said. Her voice faltered somewhat, and Archer remembered _Enterprise's_ encounter with the _V'tosh ka'tur_ – literally, "Vulcans without logic". They were a rogue group of Vulcans who did not suppress their emotions. One of them, Tolaris, had attacked T'Pol with a mind-meld, forcing himself into her mind, and she had contracted a rare, incurable disease – the Pa'nar syndrome – as a result of it.

Kamea's nostrils flared. "Is that what the Science Directorate told you? Or the High Command?" She leaned forward. "Tell me, Commander, how are mates bonded?" T'Pol didn't respond but averted her eyes, so Kamea answered her own question. "With a mind-meld, correct? If only a select few have the ability to perform a mind-meld, then how does the _kah-ka_ occur?" She sat back. "All Vulcans have the ability. They just chose not to use it. And as I said, neither have I."

"Are you implying that the High Command has lied to the Vulcan people?" T'Pol asked.

Kamea shook her head. "I don't believe there was anything implied in my statement. If the Vulcan population believes that only a minority can engage in mind-melds, they will not attempt to do so, and the act will be easier to regulate."

T'Pol's mouth was a thin line. "Vulcans do not lie."

"Vulcans lie all the time," Kamea said. "More to themselves than to anyone else."

"Is that what your father told you?" Archer had never heard T'Pol so angry before, not even at Trip. Even though, to a casual observer, she appeared as reserved as ever, Archer could hear the distinct note of fury in her voice.

"My father did not discuss his home planet," Kamea said. She did not seem angry at all, but perhaps that was because Archer couldn't read her as well. "It is a conclusion I deduced on my own. If you had not been raised on Vulcan and been forced to merely read about and observe the culture, you would have arrived at the same assumption, I'm sure. It is the logical one."

An uncomfortable silence fell, during which Archer was afraid to even breathe lest he further anger one of the two Vulcans in the room. He had seen firsthand how a Vulcan could get when angry, and he was not eager to be on the receiving end of such ire again. Trip was still staring at Kamea with an open mouth. Hoshi leaned close to him and said, "Close your mouth, Commander. You'll start attracting flies."

Archer glared at Kamea. "What's to stop you from reading our minds? You could if you wanted to, right?"

She exhaled loudly through her nose. "That is true. But I am not that kind of person. As I said before, reading someone's mind is a violation of privacy – "

"But there's nothing stopping you from doing it except your morals, is there?"

Kamea chewed on her bottom lip. She was quiet for a long time, staring at the bed. Finally she looked up. "No. But you have my word, _kapena_, that I will not use my abilities on your crew."

He didn't believe her, but how was she to prove something like that? He decided to move on. "When you were delirious, you kept saying 'danger'," Archer said, searching Kamea's face. She betrayed no emotion, but she did blink as if surprised. "Are you in any danger?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself with," she said. He suspected she was lying, but said nothing. "I had an altercation with someone on the last ship I was on, which is how I ended up in my current situation. But I have been having problems with him for some time, and I don't feel he poses any threat to you or your crew."

"What kind of altercation?" Malcolm asked.

Kamea blushed furiously – a dark tinge that started at her cheeks and spread to the tips of her pointed ears. "It's a personal matter."

Archer had one last question. "What is it that you're looking for?"

Kamea's eyes became even bluer. "What is everyone looking for?" she asked. "A place to belong."

"And do you think you could belong here?"

She lifted her shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug. "You brought me aboard. If you had left me drifting in space, in another few hours I would have been back home, with my parents." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I ask for nothing. If you wish, you may place me back in my ship and leave me stranded. It would solve a lot of my problems."

Archer leaned on his elbows, staring at Kamea. She stared back. He had absolutely no idea what to do with the girl. She seemed to pose no immediate threat, and now that her ship had been completely dismantled, she had nowhere else to go. He silently chastised himself for his hasty decision to take apart her pod; he should have just waited for her to wake to ask her about the modifications. Now she would have to remain on _Enterprise_ until she had rebuilt her ship; he wasn't about to leave her on some godforsaken planet when it was his fault she was in this position at all.

"Hoshi," Archer said, abruptly cutting off his own train of thought, "would you please take Kamea to the launch bay to retrieve her belongings, then take her to one of the empty rooms?" He turned to Kamea. "No matter what I decide, you're going to be here for a while. You might as well be comfortable."

She nodded and slid out of bed. "_Mahalo, kapena_," she said with a bow. Then she followed Hoshi out of the room.

Archer slumped down in his chair and buried his face in his hands. What to do?

* * *

**A/N:** _Dif-tor heh smusma_ - "live long and prosper"

_Sochya eh dif_ - "peace and long life"

_Mahalo_ - "thank you"

_Makua kane _- "father"

_Kaikamahine_ - "daughter"

_Kapena_ - "captain"

Okay, I'm not a scientist or a neurobiologist(remember - English major), so I don't even know if any of this stuff is feasible, but keep in mind that this is based on a show where they travel on a spaceship meeting aliens, so suspend your disbelief.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition" is brought to you by the boys of Monty Python. Blessed are the cheesemakers.


	9. Invitation

Kamea stood in the middle of the room that had been designated as hers, but she knew it never would be. Hoshi explained that it had belonged to one of the crewmen who worked in engineering and had died during the Xindi attack, and for some reason none of the new recruits had wanted it, so it remained empty.

After Hoshi had left, Kamea set about making the room a little more livable and less like a tomb. She knew that the captain would allow her to remain on board, at least temporarily, since her visit to the launch bay had revealed that her ship was in a thousand pieces. She got the sense that Archer did not care for Vulcans much, which was probably some deep-seated resentment not biased to the fact that she had been raised as a human. His dislike hadn't been palpable during her interrogation, but she concluded as much, given that he'd ordered her ship to be dismantled and her belongings to be examined while she was still unconscious in sickbay.

The first thing she set up was her surfboard, recovered from one of the panels of the hull, which she had lugged from planet to planet in hopes of finding a halfway decent beach. Gallus Prime had provided, but she'd had to leave it after only eight months, and she hadn't found another one since. She displayed several wall hangings that had once belonged to her father and hung her mother's rosary above the bed. The lei Commander Tucker had been wearing she draped over the desk chair. She laid her father's blanket at the foot of the bed. She stacked her collection of books on the shelf above the bed, determined to organize them later; right now, she just wanted to be unpacked. She'd been living out of her chests for four months.

She was in the process of unpacking her clothes when the doorbell chimed. She sighed; she'd been so preoccupied with the task at hand that she hadn't even heard anyone approach. Perhaps her senses were wearing a bit thin. "Come in," she said.

It was the captain. He remained in the doorway. "Am I bothering you?"

Kamea shook her head. "No. Please, come in."

He glanced around the room and was instantly drawn to one of the wall hangings. "T'Pol has one that looks exactly like this."

"That's the symbol of our family," Kamea said. She finished putting away the rest of her clothes and turned to face the captain. "I found it among my father's possessions. He never displayed it, but the fact that he kept it… Well, it showed that he wasn't as angry as he led me to believe."

Archer put his hands in his pockets and continued to gaze at the wall hanging. "How long have your parents been dead?"

"Almost eight years. I left Earth after they died; I haven't been back since."

He turned at that. "You haven't been to Earth in eight years?"

She shrugged halfheartedly. "There wasn't anything there for me. My mother was the last remaining member of her family, and it's not like I had anything keeping me there." She looked out her window at the stars streaking by. "I miss it, though. What I wouldn't give for just one day back at the cove."

Archer stared at her for a long moment, then noticed the surfboard. "You surf?" he asked, walking over to it.

She bit back a sarcastic response and simply nodded. "I used to. Sadly, there isn't much surfing to be done in space."

He smiled. "I surf a little. Not as well as I'd like."

She eyed him curiously. "Was there something you wanted, Captain?"

He didn't look at her when he spoke. "I've talked it over with my senior officers, and they're all for giving you a chance."

She raised an eyebrow. "A chance?"

"You're from Earth, Kamea. And you're American. You're already up there in my book. We don't much run into people from home in this line of business, you know, being the first and everything. And I think you could benefit from some time back among humans. I'm sure it's been awhile since you've been with any." He turned to face her. "So I've decided to give you a chance."

The second eyebrow joined the first. The explanation he'dgiven her made absolutely no sense, as if he had just made it up as he was speaking."And everyone agrees with this decision?"

"Well, no, the decision wasn't unanimous," he said, averting his eyes, and she knew it had been T'Pol who protested. "But most of the senior officers agree that having you aboard could be very beneficial to us."

Kamea allowed herself a small smile. "I'm sure I'll prove useful, Captain."

There was an awkward moment of silence as Archer fumbled with his sleeves. "Phlox says you should get plenty of rest. You're still weak from hunger. Take a couple of days, get used to the ship, and we'll see if we can find a place to put you."

"_Mahalo_. Thank you. Good night, Captain."

"Good night." He walked over to the door and opened it. He took a step and then suddenly turned. "Welcome to _Enterprise_, Kamea."

And then he was gone.

Kamea sank onto the bed and looked around the room. Then she smiled – a smile that would have shocked everyone, seeing it on someone who so resembled a Vulcan. It was a smile that had not graced Kamea's face in nearly eight years, a smile that went all the way to her eyes. It was hard to dwell on past events when, for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

* * *

**A/N:** And so ends the first installment of the Kamea Chronicles, to be continued in "Adjusting", which will be up as soon as I get off my butt and upload it.

Thanks for the continued reviews! I very much appreciate it.

Anyone confused about the surfboard detail - there is a hidden compartment in one of the wall panels of her pod, which iswhere she keeps it, because remember, she lives on an escape pod, and it isn't very big.


End file.
